


abandoned to the darkness

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [6]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Episode: s01e06 All Souls and Sadists, Gen, Guilt, Major Character Injury, Stabbing, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: For a moment, a fraction of a second really, Malcolm genuinely believes that he's connected with Isaac. That the boy is going to hand over the knife and surrender, that he'll be led peacefully past the ESU team that Malcolm knows is waiting outside, eager to breach the house.But then Isaac tilts his head and Malcolm sees the same fire burning in his eyes that he'd witnessed in Jake's at the gym, when the sadist-turned-trainer had nearly broken his arm.
Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557952
Comments: 28
Kudos: 86





	abandoned to the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> All works in this series are stand alone. You don't need to have read the others to read this one.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to KateSamantha for looking this over.

_Can I see my mom?_

_Yes. She loves you so much. And she'll always be there for you. I promise. Believe me? Can you give me the knife?_

\---

For a moment, a fraction of a second really, Malcolm genuinely believes that he's connected with Isaac. That the boy is going to hand over the knife and surrender, that he'll be led peacefully past the ESU team that Malcolm knows is waiting outside, eager to breach the house. 

But then Isaac tilts his head and Malcolm sees the same fire burning in his eyes that he'd witnessed in Jake's at the gym, when the sadist-turned-trainer had nearly broken his arm. 

"Isaac—" Malcolm says, slowly raising his hands in front of him, attempting to look as non-threatening as possible. Not that a peaceful demeanour helped the poor rabbits.

The glimmer in Isaac's eye just seems to intensify and Malcolm begins to take slow, cautious steps backwards, realizing he needs to not only extricate himself from the situation, but also get Isaac away from the windows. He's familiar enough with ESU protocols to know that there is already a spotter out there with a clean line of sight, and that they won't hesitate to shoot if Isaac becomes violent.

Malcolm made a promise to the boy that everything was going to be okay. He intends to keep it.

And so he schools his face into something far more tranquil than what he actually feels, and lets Isaac match his own tentative steps as he carefully leads him into the hallway. Nerves temporarily getting the best of him, Malcolm startles as his shoulder bumps the doorjamb, but he simply corrects course and continues moving, trying not to focus on how Isaac looks not like he's walking, but _stalking_ forward, hunting his prey like the predator that he is.

Malcolm waits until Isaac has cleared the doorway and they're both in the windowless hallway before he tries again.

"Isaac, you don't need to do this. We can take you to your mom and we can get you the help that you need." He keeps his voice low, knowing that Gil, Dani, and JT are nearby and won't hesitate to rush to his rescue, guns drawn. There's too much potential for things to go wrong if they intercede, and he's still hopeful that he can talk the boy down and end the night without any further bloodshed.

That hope is shattered as Isaac lunges forward, knife raised as an ungodly howl tears from the depths of his soul. 

Malcolm throws his arms out to stop the attack but Isaac swings wildly, landing three deep gashes across Malcolm's forearm, preventing Malcolm from getting a hold of him. Before the pain has even fully registered, Isaac launches himself at Malcolm, sending them both sprawling to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs in a pained whoosh. The two-second delay as Malcolm gets his bearings and catches his breath is all Isaac needs and in the blink of an eye he brings the knife down in a two fisted grip that shows none of the hesitation that had been present when he'd stabbed his father.

The knife rips through Malcolm's abdomen, just below his bottom rib and a little left of center, and his vision goes white as a blinding pain rockets through his body, searing his nerves as it moves. He doesn't have enough air to scream, but clearly Isaac's shout was enough to urge the team into action as the sound of three pairs of boots stomping up the steps cuts through the static that's filling Malcolm's ears.

He's only vaguely aware of JT wrapping strong arms around Isaac's slight frame, yanking him off of Malcolm while pinning his arms to his sides, keeping a firm hold even as Isaac thrashes and kicks and screams like he's fighting against death itself.

"Get him out of here!" Gil yells to JT, moving to the side to clear a path for JT to take the struggling boy down the stairs and out to the waiting ESU team.

Dani and Gil drop to their knees on either side of Malcolm's body, each taking hold of a hand as he scrambles to pull at the knife that's still embedded in his body. 

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're safe now" Gil says, the panic in voice belying the reassurance. "Kid, I need you to stay still. Medical is already on sight and will be here in just a minute."

A part of him knows that Gil is right, that the best thing he can do is stay still and wait for the paramedics. But a much larger part of him is lost in flashes of memories he doesn't understand: feeling Martin's hand wrapping around his own, his father's heat warm at his back as he guides Malcolm's small hand, preventing him from releasing the knife that's tight in his grip.

"Get it out!" Malcolm shouts, feet scrambling against the floor as he tries to push himself away — from the pain that's spiking through his abdomen and the offcuts of memories that are assaulting his mind. 

The grip on both of his arms tightens as he tries to liberate his hands in an effort to rip the knife free. But as hard as he struggles, Gil and Dani are stronger, jerking his hands down to the floor beside his hips, effectively immobilizing him. 

"Bright. Bright!" Dani shouts, shifting so her knee and one hand are pinning his arm down, freeing up her other hand to bring to his face. The familiarity of the cool touch on his cheek helps to ground him in reality, in the here and now, with Gil and Dani beside him, and Martin nowhere to be seen. 

It still takes a moment for his body to stop fighting, though. To recognize that the threat is gone and he can stand down. His heart continues to beat hummingbird-fast, breath coming in stuttered gasps, but he slowly manages to still his body. Unfortunately, as the tension drains away, the pain begins to filter in.

He can feel his heartbeat in the gashes on his arm, sharp twinges interrupted by a dull and pervasive ache with every pump of his blood through the severed vein. Even still, it can almost be ignored as the knife wound in his abdomen eclipses everything else, waves of pain washing through his body with each breath he takes.

"Bright? Kid, look at me," Gil says, releasing his grip on Malcolm's arm now that he's stopped fighting. He runs a hand gently through Malcolm's hair, pushing the fallen strands from his forehead, and the comforting touch helps to calm Malcolm's rapid breathing. "Good, that's good. Just keep breathing nice and slow."

It seems like such a simple request, but he can't seem to manage much more than shallow, panting breaths, each of which jostles the knife, sparking a fresh wave of agony as the blade shifts and scrapes against his insides.

"Gil," Malcolm breathes out, tears welling in his eyes and spilling over to run down the sides of his face and into his hair. "Take it out. Please. It hurts."

"I'm sorry, Bright. I can't." Gil's face crumples at Malcolm's plea, and he can hear the heartbreak in the older man's voice, but he makes no move to pull the knife out. "The paramedics will be here any minute now. Just hang in there."

Malcolm closes his eyes and bites back a sob, getting lost in the white hot pain that's pulsing through his body, somehow sharply focused while at the same time leaving him in a confused fog that threatens to swallow him whole and never let him go. He's surprised, therefore, when there are suddenly urgent voices speaking around him and he opens his eyes to find that, where Dani and Gil had been only a moment ago, two paramedics have taken up post.

They mostly speak to each other, only asking him a handful of questions that he's not sure if he's answered correctly, judging by the creased lines on their faces. He hears them throw around words like 'penetrating trauma' and 'severe blood loss', hears them explain to Gil in far too many words that his blood pressure is dangerously low, but he's too tired to make heads or tails of any of it.

Mercifully, everything is starting to hurt a little less, so it's easy enough to drift back into the waiting void of nothingness, but just as he thinks he might actually fall asleep, a harsh voice snaps him back awake.

"Mr. Bright. I need you to try and stay awake." It's one of the paramedics, a man probably only a couple years older than Malcolm himself, but there's an air of authority to him that Malcolm thinks must've come from serving in the Army. No, Marines. Malcolm's having trouble making his thoughts stick as they try to skitter off into the darkness, but he's sure the man was a Marine. He's just not sure why.

"Youmarine?" Malcolm mumbles, fighting to keep his eyes open.

The paramedic's eyebrows arc up in surprise, but he never breaks pace in his ministrations, stabilizing Malcolm to prepare him for transport. "Sure am," he says as he winds a length of gauze around the lacerations on Malcolm's arm.

"M'kay," Malcolm murmurs, eyes fluttering closed as he receives confirmation that he's right, even if he can't quite remember how he got there.

All he knows is that he's tired.

And cold.

And then he knows nothing.

\---

He wakes up surprisingly clearheaded and unsurprisingly exhausted, the smell of disinfectant pulling him from a dreamless sleep and leaving him no doubt as to exactly where he is. He takes his time opening his eyes, though, as the bright morning sun breaks through the window and lights up the room with a blinding clarity that claws at his retinas. When he finally manages to squint his eyes open, he's stunned to find JT at his bedside, folded into a small plastic hospital chair that looks exceptionally uncomfortable.

"What happened to Isaac?" Malcolm's voice comes out raspy with disuse and, he suspects, possibly from an earlier intubation. It's hardly his first emergency trip to the hospital; he's learning to recognize the signs.

"Really, dude?" JT looks up from his phone with a grimace firmly etched on his face. 

Malcolm makes no move to respond, knowing JT will provide the information in the face of Malcolm's impassivity. Malcolm mentally counts as high as forty-eight before JT purses his lips and breaks the silence.

"He's being held on a seventy-two hour psych watch, with charges for murder, attempted murder and aggravated assault pending." JT doesn't sound particularly happy with the situation, but Malcolm is too exhausted to delve into psychoanalyzing the detective at the moment.

"Jake?"

JT rolls his eyes and grunts before he answers, "Isn't going to be training anyone anytime soon. Achilles tendons in both ankles were severed and required extensive surgery."

JT pauses, clearly waiting for Malcolm to ask his next question, but when nothing is forthcoming, he sighs and pushes to his feet, the plastic chair scraping across the lino floor as he moves.

"I'm gonna go call Gil, let him know you're up and back to being a pain in the ass," JT makes his way to the door but stops short of leaving and gestures to Malcolm with an air of exasperation that Malcolm has a tendency to evoke in people. "In case you're interested, _you're_ gonna be fine. The knife somehow managed to miss anything vital."

It's good to know he's not going to be using a bag to go to the bathroom for the rest of his life, but his own wellbeing is hardly his biggest concern right now.

"Dude, you really need to stop almost dying every time we have a case," JT mutters and it's perhaps the nicest thing he's said to Malcolm since he joined the team all those weeks ago.

"Sure thing...Jackson Trevor?" Malcolm says, lips pulling into a weak smile despite how tired he is and the dull pain that's shooting through his side with every breath.

JT rolls his eyes but Malcolm can see the tension drain from his body even from across the room. "It's good to have you back, man. Get some rest."

He nods a vague semblance of an agreement and watches JT walk away, leaving him alone to contemplate what exactly he can do to help Isaac. The painkillers that are being pumped into his IV take hold before long, though, and soon he's pulled back towards unconsciousness, his body taking full advantage of the time to heal while his mind wages war against him, like it always does.

His dreams, when they come, are filled with wolves and rabbits, ominous camping trips, and a young boy that can't be helped, despite all the promises in the world.

In the distorted and ever changing way of dreams, he's not sure if it's himself or Isaac being abandoned to the darkness. 

He's not sure there's a difference.


End file.
